


Attachment

by phlight



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Drunken Confessions, Ex Sex, Kinda?, M/M, Rough Sex, disappointing your mom, they don't even know what they are doing so why the F should I, topri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlight/pseuds/phlight
Summary: Seungri doesn’t want to say goodbye to Seunghyun.





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**Author's Note:**

> TL;DR: I hope you enjoy another smutty, dysfunctional slice of life featuring topri. 
> 
> This fic sorta came out of nowhere, considering I wanted to work on some other stuff, but it insisted on being written first. I started a similar story over a year ago, after I realised there might be a period of time when Seungri and T.O.P are the only ones "out” of the military. Now that Seungri's mentioned he has to wait to enlist, the idea came back to me.
> 
> Warnings: There's a hungover person spilling their guts in this story, literally, so if you're squeamish beware. Sex is consensual but not always nice.

_1 attachment._  
  
Unknown number.  
  
Seunghyun's thumb hovered, deletion his instinctual response to mobile strangers, but he'd been sleepless and staring into the phone screen for hours. This could at least be an active distraction.  
  
The image was so dark and motion blurred that he had to max the brightness setting. He could just make out a group of people caught in candid disarray, knees knocking and tongues wagging as they sat around a tabletop covered by empty soju bottles.  
  
Seunghyun went back to the main text log, was swiping left to delete before delayed recognition made him return to the picture. Okay, yeah. That guy. And the woman, a model Seungri introduced as just another “friend.” She was discreet, but the way she looked at him...Seunghyun didn't buy it then, or now.  
  
And here came the call. Seunghyun's thumb hovered again. Green or red? If Seungri didn't keep in touch enough to give Seunghyun his updated number, why should he bother to answer his calls?  
  
_For fuck's sake._ Seunghyun rolled his eyes at himself in the darkness of his room. Seungri changed his phone on a quarterly basis. _Maybe he's trying to give you his number right now._  
  
Seunghyun sat up to make his choice: green.  
  
Dead air.  
  
Seunghyun wanted Seungri to speak first, but he cracked after a few unnerving seconds.  
  
“Did you actually mean to call, or do I have the pleasure of speaking with your ass?”  
  
“—What? Hello?” Seungri's voice sounded tinny and small, until there was a fumbling noise and it was booming out overloud. Seunghyun winced and adjusted the volume before he put the phone back to his ear.  
  
“Hello? Can you hear me?”  
  
“What?”  
  
_Should've gone with red._  
  
“Seungri. _Hello._ ”  
  
“Oh my god! Hyung, it's you? Hello!” He drew out the last word in a cutesy voice. Then there was a shrill titter, the nervous one that made Seunghyun's skin crawl with the urge to do something – anything – to make him stop. “Hyung, where are you!”  
  
“I'm home. Stop yelling.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Seungri said, dropping his slurred voice into a conspiratorial stage whisper. “And now—now, hyung, you're supposed to ask me, what am _I_ doing?”  
  
“I think I know what you're doing.”  
  
Seungri's answering giggle was lower in pitch this time.  
  
“You should come do it with me.”  
  
“Sounds like you've had enough fun on your own.”  
  
There was another fumbling noise and Seungri muttering something unintelligible. He sounded like he didn't even have the phone next to his face. This went on for five seconds or so, long enough for Seunghyun to think that a butt dial would have been more coherent. Then his own words filled him with sudden worry.  
  
“Seungri-ya? Are you by yourself?”  
  
Seungri huffed, offended.  
  
“My friends are here.”  
  
Of course. The picture. But all Seunghyun could hear on the line was Seungri's breathing, slightly laboured.  
  
“Okay. That's good.” At least he wasn't getting wasted alone.  
  
“Seunghyun,” Seungri said, slow and musing like he was remembering how to put the syllables together on his tongue. He giggled again, then hummed, something in the timbre of his voice making Seunghyun acutely aware of the feel of his cotton shirt settled against his skin. He realised he was sweating. “Mmm. Seunghyun _hyung_. Remember when we used to drink a lot together? Really. We did it so much.”  
  
“Yeah.” Seunghyun tightened his grip on the phone. Didn't remember.  
  
“ _Yeah._ ” Seungri laughed at his own imitation. “Yeah, okay. Why are you so, so quiet?”  
  
“It's late. I was asleep.”  
  
“But it's only—what time—you—no, _we_ always stayed up—you know, to see all the stars.” Seungri paused, then laughed at himself again, like he knew he sounded absurd. “The lights, I mean. You can't see stars in the city. Except I saw you, of course.”  
  
Seunghyun told himself to breathe in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Where was this coming from?  
  
_Bottom of a fucking bottle._  
  
“Hyung? Are you there?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Why'd you call me if you aren't even gonna talk?” His wounded tone made Seunghyun laugh, broke some of his paralysis.  
  
“You called me, pabo.”  
  
“Haha, really?” There was a loud clattering sound before Seunghyun could reply, then Seungri breathing heavier than before. “Hyung, I just dropped my phone. On the ground. My case is—I'll tell you a secret about it, okay? It's really gold. But also? I think it might be a piece of shit. It's like, hard to hold—”  
  
“Are you really out right now?”  
  
Seunghyun's nerves were getting to him. Yeah, Seungri went out more often than not, but drinking enough to tell 'secrets' wasn't his usual habit.  
  
“I don't lie!” Seungri insisted, indignant.  
  
“Go home, Seungri.” Seunghyun rubbed his eyes in the dark. “You're really fucking drunk.”  
  
“Come on, hyung. Don't act old when the night is young.”  
  
“Where are your friends? Is your manager there?”  
  
“In the club, in the club,” Seungri chanted. “Aish, it’s so hot in there, I thought I was gonna—I felt like I was—”  
  
He trailed off, and Seunghyun realised he could hear some background noise – traffic, voices, a car door. Was Seungri wandering around on the street? His manager definitely wasn't there, then. Seunghyun swung his legs out of the bed.  
  
“Hyung, you should just come, you should just get out sometimes. Who cares? I don't care if they care. Fuck anyone who cares.”  
  
Seunghyun sighed.  
  
“Where are you, Seungri?”

* * *

  
A line of the beautiful people waited for entry to the club, but there was no sign of Seungri. Seunghyun hoped that meant he had enough unpickled braincells left to heed Seunghyun's advice to get his ass back inside.  
  
Seunghyun asked the driver to go around the block to the side entrance. He was able to pass security after a quick flash of ID; he’d been here more than once, with Jiyong and that crew. Back then he'd had to wear a beanie to cover his hair, unless he wanted to be recognised in the first five minutes. Now a mask and a hunched walk behind a bouncer sufficed.  
  
The place wasn't that big, and it was certainly well-attended, but when Seunghyun found Seungri he _was_ alone. Unless you counted the flight of shot glasses in front of him as good company. Plenty of people shouted over his slouched body, but no one spoke to him or even really looked at him. Seunghyun felt a slow fury smolder in his chest. He wasn't sure if he was angrier at Seungri or his friends.  
  
_Not your place to judge._ No. Seunghyun was still working on his own shit. But he no longer felt compelled to obliterate himself, now that he had the freedom to do so. _Maybe Seungri is right and you're just getting old._  
  
“Seungri-ya.” Seunghyun bent down a little to speak directly in his ear. Seungri startled, looked up. His face was flushed and his eyes were bleary, but his lopsided smile was instantly disarming. Seunghyun stepped back as Seungri lurched to his feet, almost upsetting his stool.  
  
“Hyung!” He swung his arms wide, stepping forward. “You wanna get a drink? Or go put in some song requests? I'll introduce you to everyone. Oh, bro, then we should dance. I know you're out of practice but—”  
  
“You can't even walk,” Seunghyun pointed out, cutting off Seungri's monologue and reaching out for his arm to steady him. Seungri stumbled into the hug he'd started, whether or not Seunghyun consented. Seunghyun started to push him away, but Seungri's arms squeezed tighter around his back, his voice muffled against Seunghyun's jacket and almost impossible to hear over the racket pounding out of the speakers across the room.  
  
_Definitely getting old._  
  
“That just means you'll be able to keep up with me.”  
  
“Yeah right,” Seunghyun said, trying to get Seungri to loosen his grip. He grunted as he settled Seungri's weight better against his side. Seungri leaned into him, practically lolling. “Lee Seunghyun. You have to stand up.”  
  
Seunghyun let his irritation bleed into his voice, hoping his tone and the use of Seungri's full name would help snap him out of it. Seunghyun was surprised all over again by the public drunkenness. Seungri was always ready to party, but Seunghyun couldn't remember the last time he'd been carried out of a place, if ever.  
  
_Like you would know. If Seungri ever got that bad, you were blacked the fuck out._  
  
Seunghyun tipped his head at the bouncer. Between the two of them Seungri managed to keep it together enough to get out of the club, but once they were in the car he slumped against Seunghyun, heavy and sweating.  
  
“You stink,” Seunghyun grumbled, pushing him off. Seungri let his face smash against the cold window, condensation building up where his breath puffed out. Seunghyun evaluated him with sad experience as he buckled him in. He was concerned, but Seungri's physical state didn't seem critical. He needed water and sleep.  
  
Seungri stirred when Seunghyun gave the most recent address he knew to the driver.  
  
“No, hyung—” he protested thickly, turning from the window to tug on Seunghyun's sleeve.  
  
“What, you don't live there anymore? Stop.” He removed Seungri's hand from his arm and placed it on Seungri's lap.  
  
“I don't want to go home,” Seungri whined, groping outward with a trace of his adorable pout flashing over his face. Seunghyun caught his hand, squeezed his fingers a little tighter than he meant to.  
  
“Where do you want to go, huh? Want to go poison yourself even more?”  
  
As soon as the gibe was out of Seunghyun's mouth he felt bad. If he didn't want to deal with this, he should suck it up and call Seungri's manager. Should've done it ages ago, right after he took the call.  
  
Or he could take care of his friend.  
  
Seunghyun told the driver to take them back across the river. Seungri gave up and closed his eyes when the car started to move. His snoring started seconds later and didn't stop until Seunghyun roused him at the house.  
  
“Is that a new statue?” Seungri blinked, swaying in the entryway.  
  
“Don't touch it, pabo,” Seunghyun said, helping Seungri step out of his shoes.  
  
“I don't even want to,” he said, petulant. Then he yawned, jaw cracking.  
  
“Are you drunk or just exhausted? When's the last time you slept?” Seunghyun prodded him on the shoulder with one finger, amused when Seungri began to overbalance in that direction. Seunghyun grabbed his hand. “Aish. Come on.”  
  
He led Seungri to the guest bathroom. He was afraid he'd have to remove his contact lenses for him, but that turned out not to be the case. Seungri dutifully drank the water Seunghyun gave him, gazing at him over the rim of the glass.  
  
“Now use the toilet and don't piss on my floor.” He paused, watching Seungri brace himself against the wall with one hand. Seunghyun waited to hear his zipper before he stepped out into the hall. Behaving like a giant baby was unusual for Seungri, too. Stranger yet was Seunghyun's impression that Seungri liked it. Well, he still had no room to talk.  
  
Next Seunghyun watched him flump face down and fully clothed on the guest bed. Seunghyun stood in the doorway, fisting his hands and not remembering anything in particular. Just considering vague thoughts about how Seungri might be more comfortable undressed.  
  
He'd taken a few steps toward the bed when Seungri made him jump by turning his head to face Seunghyun, snuffling and muttering out more nonsense before he quieted again. His body relaxed until he was totally limp, his lips slightly parted.  
  
Seunghyun retreated to his own room. He left his door cracked just in case.  

* * *

  
Seunghyun didn't remember waking up, but his eyes were wide open in the predawn darkness, expectant anxiety flooding his body.  The atmosphere in his room felt heavy, like whatever he was waiting for had just finished happening.  
  
Then he heard it. Seungri had to be the loudest person he knew. Seunghyun sighed as he shuffled to the guest bathroom, passing a hand through his cowlicked hair.  
  
“Good morning.”    
  
Seungri groaned, his misery echoing comically inside the toilet bowl.  Then he roared out another retch/cough combination, the muscles of his bare back heaving with effort.  He must've undressed himself sometime in the night, stripping down to a pair of black briefs. Seunghyun smirked. Seemed that he didn't need his imagination any more than he needed his memories.  
  
He felt a guilty thrill from looking at Seungri this way, especially while he was doing that. Seunghyun cleared his throat and flipped the switch for the overhead fan.  
  
“I hate this,” Seungri sulked. Seunghyun could see his fingers shaking as he shifted his grip on the rim of the seat.    
  
_Baby._  
  
“Are you done?”  It was gross, but Seunghyun leaned over him to look in the bowl. Mostly clear, nothing alarming.  
  
“I think so.”  Seungri spat, then spat again. “Fuck me. Guess how much money's in there.”    
  
Seunghyun patted Seungri's back as he pushed the flush button, thinking of all the wine he'd personally deposited here.  
  
He got a glass out of the cabinet and filled it at the sink. Seungri shifted to sit against the shower door, head hanging between his knees.  Seunghyun stooped down, nudged him in the arm when he didn't respond.  Seungri looked up, undereyes dark in his wan face. He took the water without a word and began to sip, an old pro at the hangover game, albeit a whiny one.  Seunghyun sat down beside him, willing to be close in spite of the lingering smell.  
  
“You go back to bed,” Seungri said after a minute.  
  
“You aren't?” Seunghyun asked.  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Five something.”  
  
“I have an interview at seven.  I have to be at the radio station before that.”  
  
“Seven? What the hell? Why did you agree?”  
  
Seungri just blinked at him, then shrugged, took another sip.  
  
“I treat each opportunity like the last one,” he said, and Seunghyun felt the old amused affection bubble up. He both hated and loved it when Seungri got sanctimonious, tried to treat him like a hyung. In his fucking underwear, no less. Seunghyun stole a glance down while Seungri went on. “It's a popular morning program and I'm friends with the host. Also sajangnim told me I had to do more promotion for the new show before I leave. Enough reasons for you?”  
  
“You're enlisting, Seungri. You're not dying.”  But Seunghyun knew how he felt. He also understood Seungri's complicated relationship with the YG president; Seungri was a mature artist, independent, capable of conceiving and producing his own ideas.  And yet he was forever seeking the approval of the man who'd cut him.  
  
“Pretty sure I am, actually.” Seungri smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He tipped his head back against the door, closing his eyes as he finished the rest of the water. Seunghyun watched his throat work, let his eyes drift lower again. Seungri looked fit, firmer than usual. Probably trying to get back in shape before he had to go.  
  
Seunghyun wanted to ask him why he drank so much last night, but he knew there were reasons, and reasons, and reasons.  Just another stupid question on Seunghyun's long, unasked list.  
  
He startled when Seungri spread his legs, gently knocking a bent knee against one of Seunghyun's.  How long had he been watching him?  
  
_Shit._  
  
“Take a shower. I'll make something to eat.”  
  
Seunghyun stood and held out his hand.  Seungri reached for him, their fingers barely brushing before Seunghyun scoffed and pulled his back. “No. Just give me the glass before you drop it.”  
  
“Sorry,” Seungri said, dimples peeking out in a real smile as he handed it over. He got up on his own, hissing and holding his palm against his forehead as he tried to straighten up to his full height.  
  
“I'd rather hear some gratitude,” Seunghyun said, leaving before he could look again.  
  
“Thank you, T.O.P hyung,” Seungri called out to his retreating back.  
  
Seunghyun shook his head at how Seungri managed to sound impudent and sincere at the same time.  In the kitchen he set the glass down harder than necessary. He clutched the edge of the counter, stone biting a line across his palms as he willed his mind to stay blank. He turned to the fridge. His mother was supposed to come by today, so it was on the bare side, but he had some noodles he could doctor up. He pulled out a pan as the water started in the shower. The sound soothed him somehow, allowed him to focus on the food.  
  
He was plating when Seungri came in, still rubbing a towel against the back of his damp head. He wore a t-shirt advertising the 2010 FIFA World Cup, but the jeans were from last night. His complexion was much improved, all pinked up from the heat.  
  
Seunghyun crammed the last portion of noodles left in the pan straight into his mouth. Too fucking hot.  
  
“Looks good.” Seungri slung the towel around his neck.  
  
“It's just leftovers. You want coffee,” Seunghyun grumbled, turning his back on Seungri. His hands found the edge of the counter again.    
  
“You eat. I'll make it,” Seungri said, not giving Seunghyun the few seconds he needed. He gritted his teeth as Seungri came up beside him in a waft of soap and warm skin, opened the correct cabinet and started taking out supplies. Then he peered into a mug, like he was making sure it was actually clean. Seunghyun used to have a shitty dishwasher.  
  
He let go of the counter.  
  
“That's my shirt,” he said quietly.  
   
He remembered specifically where it was in the drawer. He remembered everything.  
  
“Eh?” Seungri looked up from the mug, seeming genuinely surprised.  
  
“It doesn't fit you.” Not anymore. Seunghyun looked at the thin fabric stretched tight over Seungri's chest, taking as long as he wanted this time.  
  
“It was mine first,” Seungri insisted, his jaw jutting just the slightest bit.  
  
He looked less sure of himself when Seunghyun slid his fingers over the back of his hand, gently taking the mug from him and placing it next to the empty water glass. His telltale nervous blinking began when Seunghyun pulled the damp towel from around his shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.  
  
“Seung—”  
  
Seungri lost his voice to a harsh exhalation when Seunghyun passed the smooth beds of his thumbnails across Seungri's nipples. Seungri bit his lip while Seunghyun kneaded the nubs in firm circles, both of them watching the effect of his touch appear before their eyes. Seunghyun dropped one hand away from Seungri's chest, hovered it over the ridge curving along the inside of his thigh. He waited until Seungri looked back up at him, desperately horny.  
  
_God, you're_ exactly _the same._  
  
Seunghyun grabbed Seungri by the neckline of the shirt and slammed him up against the fridge. He knew he only had surprise on his side, a few seconds at most until Seungri got his wits back. Seunghyun twisted his fist in the shirt until he heard the fabric tear. He felt the same thrill of guilt from before; he'd kept this clean and carefully folded in the drawer, for years. What right did Seungri have to put it on now?  
  
“Why did you call me?” Seunghyun demanded.  
  
Anger replaced the shock on Seungri's face, stole the softness from his features. Seungri reached up to grip Seunghyun's fist with his two.  
  
“I called you _months_ ago,” he said, sounding winded. “You never called me back!”  
  
“You didn't fucking call me.” Seunghyun pressed his fist harder into the swell of Seungri's pectoral muscle, rocking sharp knuckles against the thin skin of his collarbone.  Seungri winced, but he didn't try to get away. Seunghyun followed his quick glance down; that situation looked like it was getting uncomfortable, too.  
  
“I _did_. I told you I wanted to see you before—”  
  
“Which of your fifty fucking numbers did you call from, huh? You could try replying to the chat for fucking once. Or send a text? I know you know how!”    
  
“Let me go,” Seungri said, wrenching down on Seunghyun's arm. There was another ripping sound,  and now Seunghyun could see the gap in the seam, exposing a triangle of skin on Seungri's shoulder.  
  
_I tried to. Sort of._  
  
Seunghyun twisted his fist tighter, his other hand groping at Seungri's fly. Seungri kept his grip tight on Seunghyun's arm, but his stare was more triumphant than defiant by the time Seunghyun uncovered bare skin under the denim.  
  
His moan was so sweet when Seunghyun took him out, palming him entire before petting up his hard length to curl fingers through the soft, dark hair at the top – and then yank on it as hard as he could.  
  
Seunghyun's fridge protested with a dull _thunk_ when Seungri grimaced and threw his head back, his hips tilting away from the pain and bucking just as readily into the pleasure of another stroke down. Seunghyun watched Seungri's outrage shift to anticipation as he worked his way back up. His short scream when Seunghyun pulled again was wordless, but loud enough to echo off the walls.  
  
Seunghyun dragged him by shirt and crotch, and Seungri's only struggle was to stumble along, hissing at the sting of Seunghyun's grip. Seunghyun took him by the hips as they passed through the doorway of his bedroom, started to lean in before he smelled it. Seungri's breath was distinctly minty.  
  
He had been through a few drawers today, and none of them were in the guest rooms.  
  
“My mouthwash, too?” Seunghyun shook him instead of kissing him.  
  
Seungri grinned, his eyes flashing bright as he reached up to yank at Seunghyun's shirt. All of the buttons except the last gave way.  
  
“I didn't mean to do that much,” Seungri said, raising his eyebrows. He poked one finger at Seunghyun's navel. “Kawaii.”  
  
“Asshole,” Seunghyun growled, leaning back in. Seungri let him land one tantalising, open-lipped peck before he tilted his face away, offering up the underside of his jaw instead.  
  
“My car will be here soon,” Seungri panted, pushing down on Seunghyun's hands, trying to make the jeans go with them. “Oh fuck, _ow_ —”  
  
“You never take long, anyway.”  
  
Seunghyun left off the mark he'd gnawed into Seungri's infuriatingly flawless skin to walk him the last few feet over to the bed. Seungri climbed up without prompting, his hands and knees sinking into the white comforter.  
  
Seunghyun only looked at first, appreciating the angle and everything that made him _want_ , so fucking bad – meticulous hairline and thick neck and broad shoulders and curve of spine. And of course, Seungri's pièce de résistance.  
  
He slid his fingers under Seungri's waistband, took his time working it down his hips, ignored Seungri's continuous sighs of impatience. At last the pants were bunched around his knees and he'd spread his legs as wide as the denim allowed, which wasn't quite enough for Seunghyun's taste.  
  
“Show me,” Seunghyun said, just to see if he still would.  
  
“Damn it, hyung, the car,” Seungri complained, but he lowered his head to the bed and moved his hands back anyway. He watched for Seunghyun's reaction, curling his tongue in the corner of his lip as he held himself open. He flexed his hole once, then again, his heavy cock moving with it.  
  
_Fuck._ Still perfect. Seunghyun hurried now, fumbling at the tie of his own pants with shaking hands.  
  
Seungri moaned at the dip of the mattress as Seunghyun knelt behind him, got louder when Seunghyun reached between his legs, pulling back against the natural rise of his erection.   
  
“This big dick, maknae,” he chided, bending down to tease a pointed tongue along the underside of Seungri's tip. “Loves getting your big ass in trouble.”  
  
Seungri's laugh was short-lived, breaking into a shameless moan as Seunghyun licked up his length, ending with a broad, slick sweep over his sac and into his cleft. Seungri's eyes started to roll to white, his hands slipping a little more each time he popped his ass up to meet Seunghyun's tongue, until Seunghyun finally grabbed on to it for himself.  He hummed indulgently in the back of his throat as he squeezed Seungri's cheeks together, then pried him apart, wider than before.  
  
He leaned over him to drool, finishing with a wet hawk directly on his hole. Seungri practically bounced in place, his moan pitching low and filthy when Seunghyun hooked a thumb inside of him.  
  
_Like a fucking vice..._  
  
“When's the last time you got fucked?” Seunghyun asked, pulling to one side. Seungri gasped, moving away from Seunghyun's hand like it hurt.  Seunghyun spat on him again, working his thumb back inside with spiraling thrusts.  
  
“God, hyung, I don't know,” Seungri moaned, eyes rolling to meet Seunghyun's.  
  
“You just get around that much?”  
  
“No, no.”  He sounded so fucked out already. Maybe Seunghyun could almost believe him. “I just do it...I do it to myself.”  
  
Now those were memories. Seungri was such a show-off, got off so much on Seunghyun watching.  Sometimes Seunghyun hadn't touched him until after his first orgasm, kissing and coaxing him until he was ready to go again.  
  
“Shit,” Seunghyun said, voice hoarse from the combined hit of nostalgia and regret. _Why didn't you call me._  
   
Seunghyun lowered himself to hands and knees as well, letting Seungri's cock spring back to its usual position so he could slide his alongside. Seungri was always a slick, sloppy mess for him; Seunghyun ran his hand over both of them, took what Seungri made, smearing it over himself and pumping to be as hard as possible.  There was no way he was getting in otherwise.  
  
Seungri cried out his name as Seunghyun pressed past his entrance, pushing back with equal force until Seunghyun had no more to give him. Seunghyun stayed still, the sheathe of Seungri’s heat and fitful contractions more than enough stimulation. He waited for Seungri to relax, kissing and nipping at the back of his neck until his breathing evened out.  
  
Seunghyun felt the dampness from Seungri's sweat-soaked t-shirt against his chest as he pulled almost all the way out, felt Seungri’s entire body shudder underneath him when he plunged back in. Seunghyun knew that every sensation Seungri felt was raw, on the verge of unforgiving; exactly how he liked it.  Seunghyun reached around, gratified to find Seungri still hard. He didn't even have to move his hand; Seungri thrust into the sleeve of his fingers immediately, fucking himself on Seunghyun's cock at the same time.  
  
“Faster, hyung,” Seungri panted.  Ever the overachiever.  
  
“Worried about your schedule?” Seunghyun gritted his teeth through a smile when Seungri laughed again. Seunghyun gave him what he asked for plus a little more, making his fist even tighter for Seungri.  
  
Seungri turned his face into the bed to scream again, his grip so savage on Seunghyun's sheets he thought they might rip as well. Seunghyun didn’t hold back, fucking pleas and affirmations out of Seungri until he went blissfully rigid, coming so hard on Seunghyun's cock that it was impossible to resist going over the edge with him. Seungri kept going even after his own cock was spent, grinding on Seunghyun until he had to pull out in self-defense.  
  
Seungri collapsed into a wet spot of his own making, twitching and hiccuping out  raspy little moans. Seunghyun tucked Seungri against his chest. He held him with one hand slotted between his legs, loathe to give up access to the places that made Seungri melt into him, warm and wet and real.  
  
A prurient but unstoppable vision wavered into Seunghyun’s comedown space: Seungri putting on his smart, chipper interview personality with Seunghyun leaking out of him. Seunghyun pressed smiling lips into Seungri's short, sweaty hair, entertaining an even better daydream: Seungri deciding to skip the interview altogether.  
  
“I miss them so much,” Seungri said, shifting in Seunghyun's arms.  
  
_Oh, god._ Seunghyun was so fucking tired. He let go of Seungri, laid on his back.  
  
“I've said goodbye so many times,” he went on. Seungri flipped to face him. Seunghyun squinched the eye closest to Seungri shut. “I don't want to say it again.”  
  
“So don't. Shut up.” Seunghyun turned to him, laid a hand across his mouth.  He could feel Seungri frown.  
  
_Pabo._  Seunghyun uncovered his lips. He wanted to kiss him and tell him it was okay...but if you had to say it, you knew it wasn't.  
  
Seungri's phone vibrated somewhere in the twist of jeans around his lower legs.  He sighed a mint stream into Seunghyun's face, ruffling his bangs.  
  
“I don't even have any clean underwear.”  
  
“Take whatever you need.  You know where it is.”

* * *

  
Seunghyun was in the shower when Seungri left.  His mother came in not five minutes later, setting down the grocery bags and zeroing in on two plates, a glass and a mug.  
  
“Since when do you make breakfast?” she asked when she was ready to look at him, her lovely face placid.  
  
“I'll clean up, eomma,” he said softly.   
  
“You didn't even eat it. Are you hungry?”  
  
Seunghyun shook his head, scraped cold noodles into the trash and put the plates in the dishwasher. He stripped the guest bed before collapsing onto his own, face down and inhaling the last vestiges of Seungri, probably.  He was still the same, so one fuck wouldn't change anything.  
  
He checked his phone before he slept.

_1 attachment._

Seunghyun zoomed in on his lips, on the dark rose blooming under his jaw and the round, red smudges lined up on his collarbone. Then he could pay attention to the message.  
  
_[I forgot I was wearing this]_  
  
_[Cool shirt bro]_  
  
_[Do you want it back?]_

_[You can borrow it]_

_[Wow thanks!!!]_

_[It was yours first]_

Seunghyun added the number to his contacts.   


End file.
